Unwanted Connections
by A Vile Dagger
Summary: One path may have many leads. Choices equal consequences. A narrative/emotion driven story concerning Alanassori Dawnblade, a high-elf, and her spoils as she attempts to win a battle against poverty, famine and criminality.
1. Prologue

**A/N:**

**Unwanted Connections**

Gadgetzan had always been the city of opportunities, whether illegal or not. Home of the Steamwheedle Cartel , the city was striving ground of goblin ingenuity and profiteering. Anyone carrying enough coin would get a King or Queen's treatment and find entertainment among the several venues of Gadgetzan. Still, the epicenter which attracted people from all the corners of Azeroth was the Arena, colloquially known as the Cage.

The Cage gathered the best and worst fighters in battles of submission or to the death, in exchange of glory, fame and most important, currency. Shaped like a dome, its fences made of iron and supported by a robust structure of wood, the Cage felt truly like an animal's cage. The ground within it was always coated with blood from the constant matches. Only few survive the Arena to battle another day, the usual outcome is severe wounds or simply death.

I, like many other, was seduced by the violence, the will of survival and, of course, the gold. Among my people, though, it's a rather odd concept to put in play and the interest in physical dueling is rather reduced. Not that many of us exist today to confirm such philosophy, if you can call it that. We were once the almighty civilization of Quel'thalas, the Quel'dorei, the Sun-Blessed. Earning our arcane abilities through the archaic Sunwell, we were among the most powerful arcane users. Then Arthas came, with his undead demons, and polluted our well. Without the Sunwell's energies many were driven into insanity, others fell gravely ill. Those who survived both the insanity and the Scourge's onslaught stayed in Silvermoon rebuilding or followed Prince Kael'thas and his mind-probing. Only a minority like me, ran away and founded new life in Theramore or Stormwind. Now, Silvermoon has entered in allegiance with the Horde and the elves within it are now called Blood Elves, the Sin'dorei, in memory to our fallen. Our dearest Prince brought us a way to contain our craving for the arcane, an addiction hard to dominate, by sipping the arcane from magical items, crystals or even living beings. What scared me most was the sudden usage of fel crystals, deemed safe by our beloved leader. The changes were evident, eye-colour change, new born having some health issues and now a bigger craving for energies. The prophetic appearance of the Draenei changed the prism of faith, as the Sin'dorei battled alongside the Draenei against our now crazed Prince. In the process of all this, the Sunwell was restored and its arcane energies, mixed with the heart of a Naaru, begin to slowly heal Quel'thalas. A wholesome story, indeed, but not the reason I came to Gadgetzan.

My name is Alanassori Dawnblade, last remnant of the Dawnblade family, raised in the art of sword, if such even exists, now struggling for petty coin. My family's heritage was looted, my return to Quel'thalas would be death-seeking. Without anyone's support, I sailed from Stormwind to Gadgetzan in hope of regaining part of what I possessed or , at least, succumb to a fast death. Whatever awaits me, may the Light watch over me and let me deliver them their judgment.


	2. Chapter One :: Not The Safest Port

**Chapter One**

Not the Safest Port

_Year 27, 20th Day of the New Winter_

After one month of sailing through the South Sea, I could finally see the sandy beaches of Tanaris, the shore itself extending over several kilometers. This was all a façade, of course, behind the shore rested a massive desert which few dared to cross. Many spoke of the riches within, such as ancient artifacts belonging to the Titans or Troll civilizations. While such tales were appealing, I didn't care. I journeyed especially to this land to earn some coin fighting, not to sniff around piles of sand for heirlooms. Peering into the Silverhelm's sail, I could witness the warm winds of Tanaris propelling them, pushing the ship as it came to dock with Steamwheedle's Port. As soon as the ship stopped, a group of goblins gathered around the pier, setting up vending stalls with swiftness, exhibiting the most shiny and complex items they possessed. I watched them from the Silverhelm's deck, with my lips curved into a smile. Goblins were reckless merchants, they would sell anything. I wondered the possibility of goblins even selling their limbs for profit.. Either way, whenever you need something special or exotic, they were the ones to deliver, whether through legal or illegal ways. One of the sailors, a short n' stout dwarf with a long dark beard, poked my left-arm, somewhat startling me enough to bring out my steel dagger and point it at him. The dwarf raised an eyebrow, eyeing me up and down. He could say that I looked suspicious, after all, I kept my face hidden under a brown hood and most of my body was covered with a long cloak, a leather-made vest , linen pants and some worn-out boots. I would be wearing gloves, had not the mice aboard the ship taken care of them, ripping holes through their sewing.

'Lass, dun' ya go aroun' pointin' yer sharpie. Yer wit' tha Goblins now, ya know?'- Said the dark bearded dwarf. Acknowledging his statement, I sheathed back my dagger, bowing my head towards the stout a tattered backpack on my shoulders, carrying nothing more than some mana crystals and bread, I descended the wood plank connecting the Silverhelm to the pier. The goblins traders continued their 'merchant-yell', attempting to attract everyone who came off the recently docked boat. Some had weapons, others sold jewelry and a few of them claimed to own magical trinkets and rare armors, generally goblin's tale. While it was easy for a Goblin to trick you, the other way around didn't work. The profiteering and intelligence imbued into these little green-men made them virtually lie-proof, it was impossible to swindle a Goblin, or so was said. As I made my way towards the village of Steamwheedle's Port, one of the goblin traders silently observed me without my awareness. Being my figure always hidden under clothes, my height and slender built narrowed my race to four possible choices, thought said Goblin to himself. Once close enough to his stall, the goblin-trader coughed, attempting to drag my attention. Seeing no result in such, as I ignored him, he yelled like the others but in Thalassian, my language, in a nearly perfect accent. Without realizing I turned my head, facing a monocle-wearing Goblin with a sheepish smile on his face.

' Old Elven-ware! Magical trinkets, mystical jewelry and..Swords and daggers, worn by Quel'dorei Lords and Heroes! Only the best, at Rekziz Spikarch's shop.' - Claimed the goblin-trader, suggestively pointing at both trinkets and daggers. Tilting my head slightly down, I inspected Rekziz's goods. The 'magical trinkets' were nothing more than rings and necklaces with incrusted crystals, fairly common anywhere. Though, his weapons seemed authentic, and even if they were copies they were really well done. Especially this one dagger with a gold-painted eagle carved on its pummel, silver-forged blade and the hilt most likely made of maple wood. Rekziz quickly noticed my interest on the dagger, forging hastily a story about its past, how it was used to kill an evil nobleman in Quel'thalas, in short, Goblin-talk.

'How much for it?' – I asked him.

'Sixty silver coins.' – Replied Rekziz, picking up the dagger.

I frowned as I heard the price, Goblins had a tendency to exaggerate on prices, although in this case, it seemed fit to charge such a high quantity for a Elven-crafted dagger. Opening the leather-pouch attached to my belt, my fingers searched for silver coins, finding only three-four. A pity I would lose this opportunity to buy such a charming dagger and replace my rusty one.

' That is too expensive for my pockets, Mister Rek-zeez' – I told the Goblin, closing my leather-pouch.

' Eh. How 'bout fifty-nine? That good for you?' Rekziz said, smiling sheepish.

He was mocking me, of course, trying to see if he could get me angry enough to manipulate me into buying, a keen strategy.

'How about I tell the others that all your magical trinkets are fake? Or should I conctact the Lord to whom the dagger belongs to? Some nobles survived the undead siege against Silvermoon and I know quite well the blood-lines.' – I slowly said to the Goblin, smiling under the hood covering my head.

Rekziz stared back at the woman, not sure what to reply. To some degree she was right, most of his goods were forgeries for the delight of poor-witted pirates and the few adventurers who dared travelling to Tanaris. As for tracking down the original owner of the dagger, it would take years for the silly elf to track down a family name but if they existed, Rekziz would be in a lot of trouble and elves tend to get violent about family heirlooms.

'Why do you want the dagger, anyway? Gonna try to extort sum of us honest traders? Eh? – He asked her, crossing his tiny arms.

'Since you are so interested, I am here to participate in the Cage.' – I replied, to the Goblin's question.

Rekziz raised an eyebrow, eyeing the elf up and down. Another idiot coming into Gadgetzan to get stomped to death by an Orc, he thought to himself in a sarcastic voice. His cunning mind slowly came to the realization that he could sponsor the elf yet bet everything against her and make a major profit. And all he had to was to offer a dagger, pay some silvers to sign the elf and bingo, instant profit. Trading one meager dagger for a hefty bag of gold coins, Rekziz snickered to himself as he handed over the dagger to the elf.

'Les' make a deal. I give ya the dagger foh free and ya allow me ta sponsor on the Cage? Itsa a bit expensiv' to participate in the Cage, ya see? So I'll sponsor ya and ask for share, half of it, right?' – Exclaimed Rekziz to me as I held in the air the dagger given by him.

I stared at the Goblin, unsure of what to say. My knowledge on the rules of the Cage was limited but I knew you had to sign up, not that you had to pay for it. And, after all, it was a fair deal, Rekziz got his share in trade of a weapon and paying my expenses. Without thinking more about it, I nodded at the Goblin and the same replied with a sheepish smile.

'Glad ta hear. Let me close-up shop. We're getting' outta here!'


End file.
